Down in Paradise Alley 

HARRY L NEWTON'S 

I One-Act Comedy Sketches, 

Monologues and 
Dramatic Episodes 




A Rose of Mexico 

A Pair Of Pants 

A Jack And His Queen 



A Drama 

Talking Act 

A Comedietta 



An Invitation To The Ball Comedy Sketch 

Chatter Monologite for Males 

Down In Paradise Alley Comedy Sketch 

Family Secrets Monologue 

Izzy's Vacation A Summer Episode 

Keep Your Eye On The Ball 

Comedy Sketch 

Meet My Wife A Comedy Drama 

The Spirit of Captain Kidd Comedy 

Two Girls And Him Comedy Sketch 

What Every Woman Thinks She Knows 
Suffragette Monologue 



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M. WITMARK & SONS, 
Witmark Building 144-146 West 37th Street, NewYork 



DOWN IN PARADISE 
ALLEY 



By 

HARRY L. NEWTON 

CopyrigM 1913 by M. WITMARK & SONS 
International Copyright Secured 



M. WITMARK & SONS 

Publishers 

Witmark Building, 144-146 W. 37th Street, New York 

CHICAGO SAN FRANCISCO LONDON PARIS 

Professional performing rights reserved 



Note. — The acting rights of this Playlet are ex- 
pressly reserved by the Publishers, to whom 
Theatrical Managers and performers who 
wish to produce it should apply. Amateur 
representation may be made without such 
application and zvithout charge. 



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CHARACTERS. 

Harold Summerdale, A Young Wall Street Broker 

"Jerry'' O'Connell A Street Singer 

Locality. — ''Jerry's" home in Paradise Alley on 
the East Side of New York. 

SYNOPSIS. 

Harold Summerdale, a young college graduate, 
has fallen in love with **J^'"ry" O'Connell, a little 
East Side street singer, as good as she is pretty, 
who flatly refuses to marry a rich man unless he 
can prove his love for her. After a charming scene, 
in which comedy and pathol are beautifully blended, 
"Jerry" consents. 

The specialties introduced throughout the playlet 
are, of course, at the option of the performers, or 
may be eliminated if so desired. 

COSTUMES. 

Harry Summerdale — Neat business suit, lean- 
ing to the college make-up effect. 

"Jerry" O'Connell. — Tattered dress, but clean ; 
old shoes, battered straw hat. Change to a neat 
Organdie or any gown that a girl in her walk of 
life would wear to a Bricklayers' Ball. 



PROPERTIES. 

Mandolin for "Jerry," and a large paper box con- 
taining change of costume. 

STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

As seen by a performer on the stage, facing the 
audience, R. means right hand; L., left hand; C, 
center of stage ; L. 3 E., at upper L. of stage ; R. 5 
E., at upper R. of stage ; R. C, right of center. 



DOWN IN PARADISE ALLEY 



Scene. — ''Jerry's home in Paradise Alley on the 
East Side of New York. An old set house is at 
R. C. Boxes and barrels are scattered about stage, 
the whole effect being a ''tumbledown shanty alley" 
one. "J^^^y" ^s dressed at first entrance in a tat- 
tered costume, being a girl of the streets, then 
changes to gown she carries in box. Harold is 
nicely dressed in a business suit, leaning to the col- 
lege make-up effect. At rise of curtain, "J^^^y" 
comes on from L. 3 E. hurriedly, looking over her 
shoulder into wings. She has a mandolin under one 
arm and a large paper box under the other. 

Jerry — Well, Fm a goat if there don't come that 
Willie Boy that's been trying to chuck love chatter 
at me for the last month. T don't know what to 
make of that guy. (Turns and walks to door of 
house, sets box and mandolin on Hoor.) But he 
ain't got no chance with love stuff to-night, 'cause 
it's me for the Bricklayers' Annual Ball, and I won't 
have no time to swap love patter with no dude. 

{Enter Harold L. 3 £^., stops, takes off hat and 
bows very politely to Jerry.) 

Harold — Oh, good evening. Miss Jerry ! I didn't 
know whether I'd find you in or not. 



DOWN IN PARADISE ALLEY 



Jerry — Well, don't let me keep you from any 
other business that you come on. 

Harold — But I came to see you. 

Jerry — I'm sorry, but I ain't receivin' this even- 
ing. I just come from me dressmaker with me new 
gown. {Pointing to box.) And I'm goin' to dress 
up flashier than a band on a nickel-movement see- 
gar, and then hie me to the Bricklayers' Annu — I 
Ball. 

Harold — What! You've bought a new dress, 
and — 

Jerry — Nix. Who said bought? I rented it. 
Say, I been saving my coin for this e — vent for a 
long period, and now I'm going to blow it like a 
chorus girl engaged to a steel trust magget. 

Harold {Disappointed) — I'm sorry you're going 
out. I wanted to talk to you. 

Jerry — Say, Willie Boy, listen! You've been 
chasing down here to Vanderbilt Alley for the past 
month. I ain't saying but what you've acted like a 
regular gent, but ladies what move in my circle of 
society has got to be awful particular in grabbing a 
gentleman friend. Up on Fifth Avenue, where you 
live, the ladies don't have to be so particular — and 
they ain't. 

Harold {Laughs) — Jerry, I know it must seem 
strange that I, a millionaire's son, should be run- 
ning after Jerry, the little street singer, but — 

Jerry — Yes, and listen again. You've got to slip 
me a carefully selected line of chatter to keep me 
from thinking that you're a fresh guy, a rummie, or 



DOWN IN PARADISE ALLEY 



both. Now, come on with your alibi, and if the 
evidence don't Hsten good to me, I'll send you on 
the trail to Broadway with your head in a sling. 
Did you get that ? 

Harold (Surprised) — Did I get it? I certainly 
did ; and now for my alibi. You mustn't think for 
a moment that I'm a — a fresh guy, as you put it. 
I've never done any wrong in all my life, and I 
have certainly too much respect for you to — to of- 
fend you in any way. I like you very much, Jerry, 
and I — 

Jerry — Say, Willie Boy, don't get mushy ; don't 
do it ! I met a guy at the last Bricklayers' Annu — 1, 
and he was so mushy that he made tapioco pudding 
look like brick ice cream alongside of him. 

Harold (Laughs) — All right. I'll try not to get 
"mushy," but — say, Jerry, to please me can't you 
modify your language some? 

Jerry — Modify my what ? 

Harold — Modify your language. You use such 
awful slang. 

Jerry — Say, listen ! Any time my chatter grates 
on your nerves, beat it and beat it quick! As for 
me, I got to don me spangles and do a getaway for 
the Bricklayers' Annu — 1. (Picks up box and starts 
to go in door.) 

Harold — Just a moment. Before you go would 
you mind singing me just one song? (Aside) May- 
be I'll get my nerve together and tell her I love her. 

Jerry — Say, that's the easiest thing I do besides 
eat. (Aside) He ain't so bad, for a Willie Boy. 



DOWN IN PARADISE ALLEY 



(Gets guitar and mandolin.) Here, grab a box and 
help me scatter the noise. 

(Introduce specialty.) 

Harold (After specialty) — I wish you weren't 
going to that ball to-night. I came down here espe- 
cially to tell you something. Now, suppose I were 
to tell you that — that I love you? (Trying to take 
her hand.) 

Jerry (Drawing away) — Gee! but you're a big 
scream. So are all you college chaps, with your 
trousers turned up so high that a fortune-teller can 
see your past and future without the aid of a deck 
of cards. But something whispers to me that if a 
real wise boy ever rambled up to me and chucked a 
line of love patter like Mickey O'Brien sneaked over 
on his steady, that it would be all off with little 
Jerry. 

Harold (Laughs) — Mickey O'Brien, eh? And 
what is Mr. O'Brien's system? 

Jerry — There ain't no system to it. His gal's me 
pal, and she said that Mickey just galloped up to 
her one night and opened fire like this : ''Hello, 
Maggie, I just loped over here to tell you that we've 
got to either sign articles for a finish fight or say 
good-bye. I'm sure tired of blowing carfare down 
here three nights per week. I've looked 'em all 
over and you're the prize kiddo of the East Side. 
Now what's the answer? Do we tangle up or split?" 
And Maggie tore Mickey's necktie doing the quick 
clinch. 

Harold (Laughs) — Well, I guess I'll have to get 



DOWN IN PARADISE ALLEY 



Mickey to give me a few lessons. (Aside) She's 
immense ! 

Jerry — My, gee, but I'm crazy to get in the mid- 
dle of these glad rags. (Picks up box.) 

Harold — I'd like to see you in that dress. What 
style is it ? 

Jerry — I ain't exactly hep, but I think it's one of 
those directory creations, with the slit up the side — 
you know what I mean — the peek-a-boo gag. Any- 
how, here goes ! Now for me budwar. (Exits into 
house. ) 

Harold (At door) — May — may I come in? It's 
rather chilly out here. 

Jerry (Screams, closes door) — Not on your life ! 

Harold — Oh, very well. I'll smoke, then. (Feel- 
ing in pocket for cigar.) 

Jerry — I'm sorry, but there ain't no reception 
room in here. This is a one-room flat. 

Harold (Laughs) — Well, I wouldn't mind if I 
had something to smoke. 

Jerry (Hands out Saxophone) — Here, take this 
Dutch pipe and smoke your head off. (During his 
specialty she changes her dress.) 

Harold — My favorite instrument. 

(Introduce Saxophone solo.) 

Jerry (Enters from door after solo in neat dress) 
— Say, Willie Boy, if it ain't too much trouble, look 
me over and tell me if you think I got a chance at 
the Bricklayers' Annu — 1. 

Harold (Aside) — She's immense, and I knew it! 



10 

DOWN IN PARADISE ALLEY 



{To her) I don't know, Jerry, but Vll take a chance 
with you. 

Jerry — What's the hint ? 

Harold — That's right. I've been hinting long 
enough. Now I'm going to ask you right out. Will 
you — will you — {Pulling at collar.) Gee! but 
this collar's tight. Will you — be my wife? There, 
it's out ! 

Jerry — Say, you ain't chucking no bluff, are you ? 

Harold — No, Jerry, I mean it. 

Jerry — And you ain't looking for no affinity or 
soul mate, are you ? 

Harold — No, I want you to be my wife. 

Jerry {Sighing) — Oh, but this is so sudden! 

Harold — Then you consent? {Tries to embrace 
her.) 

Jerry {Waznng him azvay) — Fade, Willie, fade — 
just a minute. 

Harold — Listen, Jerry, I mean the honorable 
thino: by you. I want to take you away from here 
— take you to my own home. We'll be married this 
very night — right away, and — 

Jerry — And miss the Bricklayers' Annu — 1? 

Harold — Oh, hang the Bricklayers' Annual ! 

Jerry — Cut out the rough stuff. I had me heart 
set on that affair, and — pipe the gown. What's to 
become of that, eh? 

Harold — I'll buy you all the gowns you can wear. 
You must listen to me, Jerry. You must! 

Jerry — Oh, as to that, I don't need you. I can 



DOWN IN PARADISE ALLEY 



get along, Willie Boy. I can get along, but I ain't 
saying where I'll get to. 

Harold — That's why I want you. You can't go 
wrong with me. I'll take good care of you. You 
shall have everything that money can buy. 

Jerry — You ain't said much about love. Do you 
think you'll have time to chuck in a little love now 
and then ? 

Harold — I shall love you with all my heart and 
soul. 

Jerry — Well, that listens swell. You know, now- 
adays folks don't seem to be so strong on the love 
dope. It's a case of how much coin have you got, 
and will you let it out to play every day. 

Harold (Laughs) — I know, Jerry, but — 

Jerry (Sitting on box) — I'm a-thinking, Willie 
Boy — I'm a-thinking. (Elbows on knees and chin 
in hands.) 

Harold — My family is one of the oldest in New 
York. My father is a Wall Street broker, and — 

Jerry — Yes, I know. My father used to tell me 
to be kind and gentle to plain crooks, like burglars 
and hold-up men, but to keep the chain on the door 
if I seen a Wall Street broker coming. He said 
they'd lean up against wet paint so's they could take 
something home with 'em that didn't belong to 'em. 

Harold (Laughs) — Nothing like that in our fam- 
ily, Jerry. 

Jerry (Pointing at box) — Sit down. (He sits.) 
I know your family and it's O. K. with me. That's 
one trouble. 



12 

DOWN IN PARADISE ALLEY 



Harold — Why, Jerry — 

Jerry (Sadly) — Listen. You've asked me to he 
your wife — the wife of Harold Summerdale of 
Fifth Avenue — me, Jerry O'Connell, the street 
singer of Vanderbilt Alley ! Now what'll the swell 
folks say when I ramble in and sling some of my 
East Side lingo ? 

Harold — I don't care what — 

Jerry {with emotion) — Maybe you don't, Willie 
Boy, but they will. I never had no chance to come 
clean with the language gag. Never had no chance 
to do nothing, but live down here, and — say, many's 
the time I wished for enough money to buy ten 
cents' worth of hot dog at night and then have 
enough coin left to say good morning to a cup of 
coffee! But I'm Maggie Inwrong, and always have 
been. Mother died before I got me lamps half 
open, and father — say, he was strong for the booze, 
and ever since I could creep I had to take care of 
him instead of him me ! But I ain't knocking him, 
'cause he's gone, too, and many's the time he done 
me kind things when the booze was out of his sys- 
tem. And after he went — say, but I was lonesome 1 
I was that lonesome that I could have joined the 
Salvation Army for company. And now you come 
and ask me to be your wife. To leave the old life 
and the old home I knew so long. The place where 
I was born and growed up. (Rises.) The only 
home I ever knew ! Take a pike at it, Willie Boy — 
ain't it a peach? (Turns and points to house R. C.) 



DOWN IN PARADISE ALLEY 



Harold (Rises and looks at house) — And you'll 
come with me, Jerry ? 

Jerry (Smiling) — Yes, I think I'll take a chance. 
But you got to wait a minute till I pack me trunk. 
(Exit into house, then noise of things being thrown 
about, and she re-enters with toy trunk.) 

Harold — Great Scott ! Is that a trunk ? 

Jerry — What's it look like — a stack of wheat 
cakes ? 

Harold — Then you are sure you won't regret this 
step, and — 

( Music starts playing a dreamy waltz. ) 

Jerry (Commencing to keep time to music zvith 
her feet) — Say, Willie Boy, listen to that I Grab me 
and waltz me till I say "stop." 

Harold (Taking her in his arms, and waltzing) 
—When will that be ? 

Jerry — When we get to the Bricklayers' Annu — 1 
— then you can waltz me some more. 

(They waltz tivice around the stage, then exit 
walt:;ing.) 

CURTAIN. 



COMIC STORIES AND TALES 

EDITION DE LUXE. (Illustrated by Ke;ier.) 

"CASEY AT THE BAT." 
The recitation made famous by that well-known 

comedian, DE WOLF HOPPER. 
No matter what role Mr. Hopper is playing or in 
what part of the country he is, his audience always 
calls for "CASEY." 

The universal demand for an edition exactly as re- 
cited by Mr. Hopper induced us to issue one that is 
absolutely correct. Price, 25 cents, postpaid. 

"COURTING UNDER DIFFICULTIES." 
An Absurdity for Story Tellers. By Frank Dumont 
In relating this tale the entertainer shows how his 
old friend, who is the chief officer of a prominent 
organization, endeavors to "pop the question" to a 
buxom widow. He starts off all right, and is getting 
along famously when he suddenly becomes excited and 
incoherent, and before he or the fair damsel, at whose 
feet he is prostrated, realizes what's what, he finds 
himself alternating the lines of his proposal with the 
speech he prepared to deliver before his organization. 
The "confusion" that follows is most original in con- 
ception and cleverly worked out. The right novelty for 
a bright monologist. Price, 25 cents, postpaid. 
"HOW I DIED AT SAN JUAN." 
An Eccentric Narrative. By Frank Dumont. 
An "absolutely different" monolog or story from 
everything else published. The entertainer wanders 
through a "dreany of the species "pipe" and tells some 
of the most fantastical experiences and achievements 
imaginable. The surprise finish to this vivid descrip- 
tion cannot fail to create vociferous enthusiasm and 
laughter. Price, 25 cents, postpaid. 

"THE CRUSHED ACTOR," 
Or YOU CAN'T KILL HIM. 
A Screamingly Funny Interlude. 
Arranged by Frank Dumont. 
CAST. 
Mr. Golddust Gotrox. 
Lucy Gotrocks. 

Footlight Barnstormer, a reduced actor. 
Chrisfield Moke, a crab and fish vender. 
A most excellent comedy sketch for two comedians, 
one soubrette and one leading man. 

Price, 25 cents, postpaid. 
POSITIVELY NO PLAYS EXCHANGED. 

M. WITMARK & SONS 
86 Witmark Bldg. New York 



DRAMATIC SKETCHES 

"THE LAST OF THE CARGILLS." 
A Dramatic Scene for 1 Male and 1 Female. 

A beautiful story, full of sentiment and refined humor 
of the Southland. An excellent opportunity for a wo- 
man who can portray the old time southern "mammy," 
and for a man who can depict the old southern lover. 
A character full of dignity and pathos. 

The scene shows the dining-room in an old southern 
mansion on Christmas day. Outside the snow is falling, 
inside all is bright and cheerful. George Cargill has the 
Christmas dinner table laid with covers for all his lost 
loves, and his best friend; although he alone sits at 
the board. In a reminiscent mood he recalls all the 
qualities, good and bad, of his one time sweethearts 
and of his best friend, and speaks as though they were 
present. 

Finally when "Old Mammy" brings in the turkey she 
finds that "the last of the Cargills," has gone to join 
those he loved, in the great beyond. 

Price, 25 cents, postpaid 

"JOHN CLAYTON, ACTOR!" 
A Play in One Act for 2 Males and 1 Female. 

This little play might well be called " a modern Gar- 
rick," and closely follows the general theme of Gar- 
rick, although it is entirely different. 

Louise Warren has worshipped at the shrine of John 
Clayton, a successful actor, and has attended all of his 
performances, to the consternation and dismay of her 
relatives and friends. 

Finally her father. Colonel Warren, a typical southern 
gentleman of the old school, calls on Clayton to per- 
suade him to leave the country or in some way to 
break off the infatuation of his daughter. Louise learns 
of this visit of her father and also calls at Clayton's 
rooms to warn him as she fears her father may do 
him some harm. Clayton promises to disillusion Louise 
and assumes the disguise of Clayton's servant, and after 
hiding Colonel Warren, admits Louise to whom he 
paints Clayton as the most lewd villain. 

Finally Colonel Warren appreciates the sterling qual- 
ities of Clayton, and the sacrifice he is making, enters 
the room and tells Louise, Clayton is only acting, and 
is in reality all she had imagined him to be — her ideal. 

He consents to their union, and all ends felicitously. 
Price, 25 cents, postpaid 

M. WITMARK & SONS 
86 Witmark Bldg. New York 



AU13 3 PLAYS— SKETCHES AND MONOLOGUES 
"THE HABITAT'S REVENGE." 

A Play in One Act. For 2 Males. 
By Gordon Roger«. 

A Canadian-French trapper, while recalling how he 
and his daughter were wronged by a stranger to whom 
he showed hospitality, twenty years ago, that very 
night, and plotting revenge, is suddenly visited by 
apparently the same man, whom he recognizes, but 
who does not recognize him. Taking the visitor at 
a disadvantage, the trapper, before wreaking vengeance 
upon him, discloses his identity, and recites his wrongs 
to him, recalling how he was robbed of his only 
daughter, twenty years before, by the handsome 
stranger. 

While the trapper is seeking his child his aged father 
dies at home, and the daughter afterwards returns to 
her father's cabin only to die on its threshold. For 
all this, vows the trapper, the other must die, but just 
as the much-wronged man is about to put his threat 
into execution, the younger, realizing that he is the 
son of the wrongdoer, declares himself just in time to 
save his life. 

A powerful dramatic story, most effectively told, and 
affording opportunities for the portrayal of a strong 
character study and of an attractive juvenile part. 
Price, 25 cents, postpaid 
"THE REHEARSAL." 
A Novel Social Entertainment. For 7 Females. 
By Effie W. Merriam. 
In this most amusing playlet the participants mingle 
with the audience, thus making the entertainment ap- 
pear to be entirely extemporaneous. Neither stage, 
scenery nor special costumes are needed to make it 
effective: in fact "The Rehearsal" may be acceptably 
given either in the parlor or on the porch or lawn, 
and is so arranged that very little memorizing is neces- 
sary — a great point in its favor, especially when but 
little time can be given to preparation. 
Price, 25 cents, postpaid 
"WHEN WOMEN RULE US." 
Burlesque and Court House Scene. 
By Frank Dumont. 
20 Characters. 
This satire is arranged specially for ladies wherein 
all the characters are assumed by them; the two hus- 
bands being represented by the ladies also. 

This burlesque may be used by gentlemen who, at- 
tired in grotesque imitation of female wardrobe and 
fads, can create any amount of laughter by imitating 
the gentle sex in mannerisms. 

Price, 25 cents, postpaid 

M. WITMARK & SONS 
86 Witmark Bldg. New York 



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